


The White

by inspiredzone



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Bashir has questionable medical ethics, Episode Remix, Gen, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Medical Jargon, Medical Procedures, Medicine, Moral Dilemmas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-22
Updated: 2021-03-22
Packaged: 2021-03-28 02:01:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30132300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inspiredzone/pseuds/inspiredzone
Summary: “I wish I was on this trip with someone else, that's what I wish.”A re-imagining of Hippocratic Oath (4X04), where Julian Bashir is traveling with Jadzia Dax instead of O'Brien.
Relationships: Julian Bashir & Jadzia Dax
Comments: 4
Kudos: 19
Collections: Sid City Social Club Fanfiction Collection





	The White

_Medical Officer's log, stardate 49066.5_

_Lieutenant_ _Commander_ _Dax_ _and I have concluded our bio-survey of Merik 3 in the Gamma Quadrant. We're on course back to the wormhole and should arrive at the station two days ahead of schedule._

Julian Bashir rose from his seat to collect a steaming mug of Tarkalean tea from the replicator. It was his fourth cup of the day. He didn’t usually drink this much tea. It was another long day of travel in the tiny command deck of the runabout, however, and getting up at regular intervals for tea gave him something to do to pass the time and stretch his legs.

He blew on the tea to cool it, took a sip, then set it on a clear spot of the console before lowering himself into the seat again. He had to squirm into a few different positions until he found one he could live with. The Rubicon was not designed for someone with long legs.

“I just love hearing his voice rumbling through Ops. I love men with deep voices.”

Jadzia had been chattering on about their new strategic operations officer, Lieutenant Commander Worf, for their entire journey. He let her, as a good friend should, despite his distinct disinterest. He now knew far more than he ever cared to know about Klingons- and specifically this Klingon. Jadzia even quizzed Julian on his knowledge of Minsk, apparently Worf’s favorite city on Earth, and was disappointed to learn he knew very little beyond its general location on the planet, and that it was known for being cold year round.

“Have you ever been with a Klingon before?” He asked her.

“Well, no. Not a male Klingon.”

Julian smirked over the edge of his mug until she caught his expression.

“I was referring to Curzon.” She swatted at his knee with a smile.

He chuckled. “I can’t imagine there’s much difference. You wouldn't believe some of the injuries people come into the infirmary with after a night with a Klingon. The nurses actually have a running list. And you win a slip of latinum if you get them to actually admit what happened, instead of claiming it was a ‘training accident’ in the holosuite.”

“Oh, I can imagine. Curzon had a lot of those training accidents of his own.” Her eyebrows danced in amusement. “Anyway, you're one to talk."

"What do you mean?"

"An Elaysian, a Bajoran- your attempts with me!” She raised an eyebrow. “I'd be surprised if there hadn’t been a Klingon who caught your eye too.”

"A Klingon?” He scoffed and tried to appear horrified at the suggestion. After a pause where he hoped she'd believed his denial, he continued. “Even if there _had been_ , I could never live down the humiliation of going to my own infirmary after a ‘training accident’, so it would be best to avoid it altogether!”

She laughed, which set him off as well, until the console beeped to get their attention.

Jadzia spun her seat to face forward and read off the warnings on the computer. “We're picking up a subspace magneton pulse, bearing zero nine zero mark one one five. The Bopak system.”

“What's a magneton pulse?” Julian asked.

“It's a burst of polarized magnetic energy. It's usually produced by a damaged warp core.”

“So there could be a ship in trouble?”

“Possibly. Let's take a look.”

Jadzia charted the new course on their computer, which led them to Bopak 3. It was a small, uninhabited M-Class planet, far away from any Dominion outposts or established trade routes.

“If a ship with a damaged warp core was going down, why would they come all the way out here?” He wondered aloud. “We passed three other planets on our way here. Certainly those would have been better choices.”

“This is a strange place for a ship to land, even if it was having engine trouble,” Jadzia agreed. “Of course, it could be an anomalous reading, but I’d feel better if we could- hold on. There’s some kind of energy on-”

The ship jolted around them, and his tea went crashing to the floor.

“Wha- what the hell?” Julian exclaimed.

Through the viewscreen, he saw blue-green and silver bolts of energy sparkle around the ship in waves, then turned his attention to the computers to help Jadzia.

“We've been hit by a plasma field.” Jadzia said. “We're losing main power. Switching to auxiliary units.”

The runabout continued to shake.

“The field's draining our power. I can't break free.”

“We’re losing altitude.” He didn’t even need the computer readings to make that call; the dark of space in their viewscreen was quickly turning to the bright white clouds of atmosphere.

“Send out a distress call. I’ll try to get us down in one piece.”

Julian stretched to reach the emergency distress key. It did not activate. “And the comm system’s jammed!”

He tried again, and then a third time, and held it down firmly. No response.

The prospect of crash-landing on a remote planet in the Gamma Quadrant was bad enough even with a distress signal. Without...he didn’t want to calculate those odds.

Jadzia guided them towards the surface, and they burst though the low cloud cover just in time to swerve and avoid the green tree tops of a dense forest.

“I’m reading a clearing up ahead,” Jadzia said. “I think we can make it. Hold on.” 

The ship crashed through the trees, and Julian instinctively put up his hand to protect his face as the branches flew at them on the viewscreen. When the runabout finally came to a shuddering halt on what he hoped was solid ground, he inhaled, then exhaled deeply to slow his racing heart. He looked over at Jadzia- who was breathing heavily, but similarly uninjured- then turned back to peer out for his first proper view of Bopak 3.

There wasn’t much to see. It was dark, and a fog cut off their view no more than fifteen meters ahead of them. All that he could see was lush, dense trees with branches drooping with large ferns and vines as big around as his forearm draped between. No sign of wildlife, though the ship’s crash landing into their habitat probably had something to do with that. Certainly no sign of human life, or a ship with warp technology that they were supposed to be saving.

“Well we made it.” Julian declared.

“Yes, we did.” Jadzia rubbed her hands over her face.

She was still reeling from the rush of adrenaline, he surmised. He bent to scoop up the now-empty mug, and returned it to the replicator to give her time to calm.

“Is the runabout damaged?” His eyes glanced over the screens, but everything on his side appeared normal.

Jadzia tapped a few keys. “It appears to be in working order. Not sure I want to take off again in this fog, though.”

Julian pressed the emergency distress key again. Nothing.

He shrugged. “Worth a shot.”

He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the wall.

“Well. What should we do now?”

Her brow wrinkled in confusion.

“ _Commander_.” His middle finger tapped the pips on his own collar.

“Oh.” Her eyes widened. Her promotion was still new enough that she forgot she was the ranking officer. “Well. There’s still a ship out there with a leaking warp core.”

“A ship hiding on a remote planet and potentially jamming our comms.”

They exchanged a look, and both reached for their phasers before making their way to the exit.

***

The door opened and the cool sanitized air of the ship quickly dissipated into the humid jungle. Julian stepped out onto the surface, with Jadzia on his heels. The chirps and buzzes of what he hoped were non-lethal creatures surrounded them. He inhaled deeply.

“Smells like a garbage dump.”

“Smells like you after racquetball.” Jadzia muttered.

He turned with a smile, intending to make his own quick retort, when the unmistakable sizzle of a transporter put them both on alert- just in time for six Jem’Hadar to shimmer into view, weapons drawn.

“Do not move. You are prisoners of the Jem'Hadar.”

They froze. The soldiers surrounded them, took their weapons, and snatched the combadges off their uniforms.

“Are there other Starfleet ships with you?”

They remained silent.

“Tell me.” He pointed his weapon at Jadzia’s face, which caused Julian to react.

“There are no other ships with us,” He said. “But if we don't return, Starfleet will begin looking for us.”

“When?”

“Soon.”

The Jem’Hadar’s eyes darted back and forth between them.

“You’re lying.”

Julian tensed in anticipation, but the First Jem’Hadar lowered his weapon as he said it.

Another Jem’Hadar approached the First.

“No other crew. Standard Danube-class runabout. Some modification to the phaser array and shield generators.”

"Why were you in this star system?" the First asked them.

Julian spoke up again. "We picked up a magneton pulse. We thought there might be a ship in trouble, so we altered our course-"

The First snapped to attention, and addressed his soldiers.

"Return to the ship. Put a damping field on our warp engine."

There was a clatter behind Julian as two soldiers left, and the others shifted in formation to fill the gap.

The First eyed Jadzia, then Julian.

“Starfleet. Speciality in the sciences.”

“Science and medical officers are low priority targets,” The Second told the First. “I submit we use them in a tactical exercise.”

“No.” The First was calm. “Bring them both back to camp.”

“Move.” The Second ordered, and they were marched away from the runabout into the misty jungle.

Day 1

Julian would not be recommending Bopak 3 to any of his friends. It was hot- hotter than Garak preferred to keep his quarters, which had previously been Julian’s threshold for “unbearable”- and the sticky humidity of the air caused his uniform to cling to his skin and sweat to drip from his brow, tickling his face. They couldn’t have walked far, but the heat, the fog, and the lack of any distinguishable landmarks in the jungle made him quickly lose track of their location in relation to the runabout.

They were escorted to the base of a mountain, and into a large cave. Once inside, a forcefield was activated around them. Armed Jem’Hadar patrolled the perimeter. They had been there for awhile now. How long, he wasn’t exactly sure anymore, but it was long enough for him to regret all the tea he drank on the runabout.

He and Jadzia briefly debated escape in hushed tones, but they were outnumbered three to one, with no weapons, no knowledge of the terrain, and no idea if the runabout would be able to outrun even a damaged Jem’Hadar ship. The escape plans faltered after that. They were being kept alive for now. That was a good sign. They would take that until other opportunities presented themselves.

Finally, the First entered the cave again, and spoke with another soldier. He approached them and deactivated the forcefield.

“Come with me.”

***

It was full daylight now. They must have crashed in the morning hours of this planet. The First brought them to a campsite outside the cave filled with laboratory equipment that must have been salvaged from their ship. There was a crude canopy draped from the trees overhead that just barely shielded their eyes from the harsh glare of the sun. Julian tried to surreptitiously wipe the sweat off his face with the back of his sleeve.

“You will work here,” The First commanded.

“What do you want from us?” Jadzia asked.

“You are here to carry out scientific research for us. There is a drug that all Jem'Hadar must have in order to live. We call it ketracel-white.”

“The isogenic enzyme?” Julian asked.

“You know about it?”

Julian glanced at Jadzia. They did know about it. But they certainly didn’t want the Dominion to know how much they knew about the weaknesses of their foot soldiers. They were genetically engineered to be born addicted to ketracel-white. Without it, their circulatory system would shut down. The Dominion controlled the Jem’Hadar through access to the drug, and kept them entirely dependent on serving the Founders if they wanted to survive.

“You want us to try and synthesize the drug?” Julian guessed.

The First scowled. “ No. We do not want more of the drug. We want to be free of it. To break the addiction.”

“Break free?” Jadzia repeated. “Why?”

“Because we want to leave the Dominion. Because we want more than the life of a slave. And because I am proof that it can be done.”

He pulled down the neck of his uniform to reveal there was no sign of a port in his neck.

Julian forgot himself and immediately stepped forward to inspect it more closely. There was clearly a scar on the Jem’Hadar’s neck where it used to be. The soldier tensed, but still allowed Julian in his space to examine him.

“How is this possible?” Julian asked. “I don’t understand. How did you overcome it?”

“Three years ago, I was on a ship that crashed on this world. The rest of the crew died and I was left with only enough white to sustain me for three days. I rationed my supply and managed to stretch out the drug for eight days, and then it was gone, and I was ready to die. But death never came. I lived here for thirty five days without a single drop of White. Being here, on this planet, cured me.”

The First pointed towards a clearing. Four of the Jem’Hadar stood at attention, while the Second barked at them. “Take the pain.”

“It has not worked yet,” The First said.

Julian could now see the Jem’Hadar were wide-eyed and twitching. One was shivering, despite the all-consuming heat. They looked like addicts going through a withdrawal.

 _Because they were_. He corrected himself mentally.

“My men believe we have enough white to last twenty-seven days.” The First continued. “I lied. We have enough for four. Which means you have four days to find the cure.”

***

After a long day of testing every rock, leaf, stream and creature for any sign of a link to the enzyme receptors, the Jem’Hadar returned them to the forcefield in the cave for the night. It was a relief to be out of the sun again. The air in the caves was as damp as it was in the jungle, but it thankfully wasn’t as hot. Jadzia, exhausted from her repeated treks into the jungle for new samples for Julian to test, had propped herself up against the cave wall to eat one of the field rations they had convinced the Jem’Hadar to retrieve from the runabout.

Julian, however, was energized. He rolled up his sleeves, and paced back and forth as he worked through their options for the next day.

“Perhaps it’s a combined effect- something in the water and the air integrate-” He laced his long fingers together to demonstrate his thoughts. “And that matches the receptor.”

He started to think back through their tests that day, for anything that might have had a partial match. They hadn’t been allowed to take the electronic padds back to the cave with them, but Julian’s eidetic memory made it unnecessary as he skimmed through the notes from the day. There had been some results on that fungi which had been discovered at the base of certain trees, the ones with the arrow-shaped leaves, perhaps-

“Julian, you sound like you want to help them.”

He was pulled out his thoughts and turned to face Jadzia in surprise.

“Don’t you?”

She frowned. “As a scientist, I understand your need to solve this problem- believe me. And I’ll assist. But remember- we’re prisoners, and the Dominion are our enemy.”

“But think of it!” He bounced on his heels in excitement. “If we can get the other Jem’Hadar off the white, they’ll no longer be dependent on the Vorta, or the Founders. The Dominion will have lost their army! And we’ll have freed them from a lifetime of chemical dependence and slavery. We could end the conflict with the Dominion before it starts, and save the race of the Jem’Hadar!”

“That’s a lot of conjectures, Julian,” Jadzia warned him. “How do you know it will even work? How do you know they won’t use this to overthrow the Vorta, then come for the Federation? We don’t even know if they’ll let us go in one piece.”

That gave Julian pause as he considered it.

“They will if I save them.” His tone came out more petulant than he intended.

“You don’t know that. We don’t know anything yet, other than molecular matches to the enzyme clearly aren’t found in anything we’ve tested.”

“Jadzia, we have four days to try.” He squatted down next to her and grasped her arm. “And at least two before anyone from Starfleet even knows we’re missing. What else are we to do?”

She shook her head, as if trying to shake out an an answer, then shrugged in defeat when none came. “I only worry what will happen when those four days are up if we don’t have a cure.”

Day 2

Julian slammed his palm onto the table in frustration after another failed test. They had been working all day. Nothing they were finding on Bopak 3 came close to the molecular structure of the enzyme receptors, even in the multiple combinations and chemical reactions they tested.

It was at that moment the First came around the ridge to check in.

“What have you found?” He asked.

“Nothing.” Julian snapped.

Jadzia gave him a warning look, which he bit his tongue to heed. She was right. They were still prisoners and his aggression could be seen as a threat.

“We can’t find anything in the atmosphere, the soil, the water, the plant or the animal life that is remotely compatible to your cellular structure or your DNA.” Jadzia explained. She pursed her lips and began to twist her fingers together as she thought. “Maybe you were exposed to some anomalous conditions four years ago that no longer exist. A magnetic storm, solar radiation, volcanic gases-”

The First shook his head. “No. Everything is as it was four years ago. The planet is the same. The conditions are the same. The answer must be here. There is no other explanation for what happened to me.”

Jadzia sighed and turned to Julian for assistance.

_Why had these conditions worked for the First, and no one else?_

This thought rang around in Julian’s head. They had been painstakingly following the First’s deductions so far, but what did he know about medicine and biology? The Jem’Hadar were bred for war, not science, and their results reflected that. Julian needed a hypothesis of his own.

He thought of the page with the notes from that day, with all their attempts at the flora and fauna of the planet. He imagined opening a document on the padd and staring at a blank page to see the situation anew. It was a trick he had learned as a child. If he cleared away all of the old data, he could think of things from a new perspective. His mind clicked through the possibilities. If he were presented this case in the infirmary, what would he think? _Ah-ha!_

Julian picked up the tricorder and began to scan him, then read through the results as they appeared.

“Remarkable. Your body is producing the exact amount of ketracel-white you need to survive. Your metabolism has evolved beyond the need for an external source of the enzyme. Maybe there is an explanation. Maybe nothing happened to you on this planet. Maybe you were never addicted to this drug at all.”

“But I took white all my life.”

“But maybe you didn't need it. It's possible that your DNA structure underwent a random mutation that made you unsusceptible to the addictive effects of the ketracel-white.”

The First grunted. “What does this mean?”

“It means that _you_ are different,” Jadzia translated. “It wasn’t the planet that cured you. You were cured all along. Something in your DNA is different than that of the other Jem’Hadar.”

Julian ran his fingers through his hair in frustration as he skimmed the results on his tricorder. They came away wet with sweat, and he reached down to smear them across his the chest of his uniform. “So much wasted time! We’ve been testing the plants and the animals, but we should have been testing _you_ to discover why you’re different than the others. But I can't find where it's coming from. There don't appear to be any glands or cell clusters producing the enzyme.”

“Even if we did,” Jadzia said. “You said it yourself- he’s only making enough for himself to survive. We couldn’t extract it.”

Julian nodded- he had already dismissed that treatment possibility for the same reason.

“Perhaps we can introduce the mutation into the other Jem’Hadar in hopes of triggering the same in theirs.”

“What do you need?” The First asked.

Julian met his eyes. “We’re going to need your bone marrow.”

Day 3

Other than the First, named Goran’Agar as they’d learned, there were five Jem’Hadar. Julian wanted to try the bone marrow transplantation in all of them simultaneously, but Jadzia convinced him to start with two. They weren’t entirely sure about how Goran’Agar’s mutation worked and they didn’t want to risk his own metabolic structure by withdrawing too much from him at once.

Even under Goran’Agar’s orders, it had been difficult to get two of the Jem’Hadar to submit. The Second, Arak’Taral outright refused. The Jem’Hadar didn’t trust them, especially when Julian first approached with a hypospray.

“What is this?” The soldier stepped back.

“It contains cells from Goran’Agar’s body, which will teach your body’s cells to create the enzymes needed to simulate ketracel-white.”

He still eyed Julian warily.

“It’s medicine,” Jadzia clarified. “It won’t hurt.”

She smiled, even though her bedside manner was wasted on the stoic Jem’Hadar.

“Well, I mean, it could,” Julian said. “Hurt you. It shouldn’t. If there are any side effects, you’ll have to let me know. But if all goes according to plan,” He shot the hypospray into the cervical pores of the Jem’Hadar’s neck. “This will work, and you will no longer need the white.”

***

Goran’Agar had been distributing the white at midday. He went through the ritual today as usual, but withheld two vials from the two who received the transplant that morning.

“You are strong,” He told them. “We go into battle to reclaim our lives. This, we do gladly, for we are Jem'Hadar. Remember- victory is life."

“Victory is life,” The two repeated.

***

In a Jem’Hadar approximation of gratitude for their progress, Goran’Agar had a few of their belongings brought from the runabout when they retired to the cave for the night. No padds or anything that could be used as a weapon- including their toothbrushes inexplicably- but when the Jem’Hadar tossed fresh uniforms at their feet in the cave, Jadzia groaned with relief. They had previously been unsuccessful in their attempts to convince the reptilian Jem’Hadar to let them use the sonic shower on the runabout. The soldiers were concerned about escape. After two days of soaking in his own sweat in the steaming jungle, Julian would be as likely to rush to the runabout’s bathroom as the helm. But clean uniforms were a treat in themselves.

Julian had his back turned to give Jadzia privacy, but the sound of tearing caught his attention.

“What are you doing?” He called.

“I am trying-” She puffed. “To tear the sleeves off the undershirt. These uniforms were designed for space. Not-” Another rip. “This jungle.”

He laughed.

“Is that Starfleet regulation, commander?”

“I don’t care. I’m the ranking officer on this mission. It is now.”

He started to do the same to his own undershirt. “I wish I could brush my teeth. Or shave.”

“The stubble isn’t half-bad. Have you ever thought about growing a beard?”

“No, why?”

“You look older with it.”

“If only I had thought to grow a beard three years ago.” He chuckled.

“Were you old enough to grow a beard three years ago?”

He could hear the smile in her voice even without seeing her face.

“We’re the same age!” He objected.

“Well. Parts of us, maybe.”

“Dax doesn’t count!”

He was grinning. It had been days since he felt like this. Relaxed. Happy. The bone marrow treatment was working. The two soldiers weren’t showing any signs of withdrawal. They would be giving it to the rest of the Jem’Hadar in the morning. Then he could teach Goran’Agar to prepare the treatments, and send them on their way to cure the rest of the Dominion. He started to imagine his acceptance speech for the Carrington Award.

_“-And it was all because of a magneton pulse!”_

He dressed in the clean uniform, which a few modifications for the jungle- sleeveless undershirt, sleeves pushed up, and the zipper undone to the waist. Hopefully this would be more comfortable on what was assuredly going to be another sweltering day tomorrow.

When they both announced they were finished, he turned around and saw Jadzia had the same idea- she was in the sleeveless undershirt with the sleeves of her uniform tied around the waist. She shrugged at his amusement, then sat cross-legged on the stone, and started to pull her long, dark hair up into some braidy-twisty design that Julian never bothered to comprehend. His girlfriend Leeta had short hair.

He sat down against the cave wall, and stretched his legs out before him.

“So tomorrow morning, we administer the treatment to the remaining Jem’Hadar,” he said. “And this time tomorrow, they’ll all be cured.”

Jadzia considered his words.

“I’m still worried about what they will do once they’ve been cured of their dependence on white. They were created for war, down to their DNA. Even without the white, what will they become?”

“They have the potential to become a brand new species! A cured, freed Jem’Hadar. Look at Goran’Agar. He’s different. You said so yourself earlier today after he questioned the existence of the Founders. It was practically blasphemy for the Jem’Hadar. He's beginning to question everything he's been taught. It’s incredible.”

“We don’t know that for certain. That may be another part of Goran’Agar’s genetic mutation. You previously theorized when you discovered that Jem’Hadar infant that the Founders genetically altered the Jem’Hadar to keep them loyal. And questioning Founders you’ve never met is very different than being confronted with one like that young soldier was on Deep Space Nine.”

“I suppose.” He frowned.

Julian had never been believed in any gods, and thought most religious practices were a bit silly and superstitious. He liked Odo well enough, but not enough to worship him or follow him into war. He didn’t even like to take sides in Odo’s ongoing feud with Quark. Though mainly out of professionalism, because...obviously he’d chose Quark.

Jadzia finished clipping up her hair, and reached over to pat his knee.

“Julian, I think you’re doing good work, but we should take it one step at a time before we declare them a new species.”

She smiled, then stood, and walked over to the pile of field ration packets.

“I’m taking the targ. Do you want chicken pot pie or ramufta?”

“Chicken.”

She passed him the pack, then sat down and peeled hers open.

“You know,” she said. “There’s a rumor that the field rations are all one flavor, and they put different color labels on them to make you think there’s variety.”

“Did I ever tell you about the-” He started.

“Candy bar you created in medical school? Yes.” She must have registered the disappointment on his face and smiled. “But you’re welcome to tell me again to pass the time.”

“No, that’s alright.” He sighed, and took a bite of the chewy supplement. After a moment, he glanced down and saw a green label. “Oh. You gave me the ramufta.”

“Sorry. Can you taste the difference?”

“No.”

Day 4

Julian was on a beach on Risa. It was sunny and warm, but delightfully so, with no humidity and a lovely breeze. He rolled over into the sand to see the new dabo girl and as soon as he made his move, an Andorian bull appeared, and stomped down on his shoulder. He shouted in agony, then opened his eyes and discovered he was being shaken awake by Goran’Agar.

“Wh-what?”

“Come. Now.”

“What’s going on?” He struggled to sit up.

“It is not working,” Goran-Agar hissed.

He and Jadzia were hauled out to their makeshift lab. It was still dark out. The two Jem’Hadar he had treated- Meso’Clan and Temo’Zuma- stood twitching and shivering in the moonlight. As they approached, Temo’Zuma lunged at Julian and had to be held back by the others. He fought their grasp and roared. The feral sound banished any remnants of sleep from Julian.

“Why didn’t you give them ketracel-white as soon as you saw it wasn’t working?” Jadzia asked.

“You said it would work.” Goran’Agar addressed Julian. “You said they would be cured.”

“It was a hypothesis!” Julian exclaimed.

His heart was racing and so was his mind. All the statistics and possibilities swirled too quickly to keep up; he couldn’t focus on one long enough to think of what to do.

“Goran’Agar, go get them the white now.” Jadzia said.

“No!” Julian reached out to stop her. “No, wait, we- we can give them more of the bone marrow, maybe that-”

“Julian- we can’t even get close enough to examine them!” Her tone was unflinching. “We have to give it to them, _now_. The experiments can continue once they’re ok, not like this.”

He looked at her, then Temo’Zuma, and cursed under his breath.

“Fine. Do it.”

***

“Dammit!”

It was once again midday, and Goran’Agar had left them distribute the white to the Jem’Hadar. They had been going over the results since before dawn. It wasn’t a fluke. Both of the Jem’Hadar had rejected the bone marrow. Once they got their white, they calmed enough to let him examine them and saw the sores in their mouth that indicated the rejection. Which meant no mutation had developed in their system. What he thought was a successful result was actually delayed response was due to their bodies burning through the naturally-occurring supply of ketracel-white in Goran’Agar’s bone marrow. They had been in withdrawal ever since it ran out.

“They’re taught to ‘take the pain’,” He ranted. “And refuse to admit any weakness to their enemy. So they don’t tell me when something is going wrong! How am I supposed to get _any_ results under these circumstances?”

He swung his hand across the table, and sent all their samples crashing to the ground.

“Julian!” Jadzia exclaimed.

Her mouth gaped open. He had enough presence of mind to feel ashamed at lashing out.

“They’re all useless anyway,” he muttered.

He squatted down to clean up the mess he made.

“There’s no way you could have known,” Jadzia said.

“I should have checked more carefully for rejection. I thought the lack of withdrawal yesterday was evidence enough. I didn’t consider-”

He stopped. He had considered. But he had been blinded by his own arrogance after the first hint of success, and shoved aside the doubts.

“What else can we do? They have one day left of ketracel-white. After that…” She trailed off to avoid the conclusion of that scenario. “If only we had more of the ketracel-white.”

“It would probably be possible to synthesize more. But Goran’Agar said he doesn’t want more. He wants their dependence to be over.”

“Maybe he’s changed his mind. It’s not as though we haven’t tried to do it his way.”

Julian placed the damaged, useless vials in the waste disposal unit. There was one left intact, which he placed in his pocket. He wasn’t sure Goran’Agar would be willing to give anymore at this point and they may need it.

He lowered his eyes and turned a page in his mind.

 _If only they had more of the ketracel-white._ An idea came to him.

“Goran'Agar says he doesn’t want a synthetic form of ketracel-white, but what if we could create a version of the white that stimulates the same receptors, but without the addictive qualities?”

“What do you mean?” Jadzia frowned.

“You’ve seen them as they take the white. They’re euphoric. If we take away that and make a version that is strictly nutritional, we can bide our time. It will be like our field rations.”

“Julian, they’re born with the need for this drug. It’s a part of their genetic make-up. How do you know removing the drug from their system will work? Especially now that we know we have reluctant patients who will refuse to disclose their symptoms. We don’t even have a biobed.”

“Do you have any better ideas?” he countered.

“I wish I did. I don’t like this.”

“Then this is our last chance.”

Day 5

Morning once again came too soon for Julian. Unlike his rude awakening the day before, this was due to him staying up half the night creating the altered ketracel-white. He had finally managed to come up with something. Jadzia had gone to bed hours before him, but he had been determined to finish. They still had to run further tests that morning, before the midday distribution.

As he shuffled out of the dark cave into the too-bright sun, he nearly recoiled away from it like a Corvan vampire bat. The extent of the sick, depraved acts he would perform for a cup of tea would be limited to only the special restricted holosuite programs Quark was required to keep in a safe.

Goran’Agar did not like their plan when they explained it yesterday, but it had been their last day of the real ketracel-white. They were running out of options. And once the Jem’Hadar had turned, he was as much at risk as they were.

“Well?” Julian asked impatiently.

Jadzia had gone through his notes from start to finish for the third time.

“Well,” She set down the padd. “On paper, it should work.”

“So should everything else we’ve tried,” He said, and took back the padd. “I’m doing the best I can.”

“I know you are.” She reached out to squeeze his arm comfortingly. “The work you’ve done here is extraordinary, especially given the circumstances. No one- even the Jem’Hadar- could say otherwise.”

She reached over to pick up a vial. Instead of white, the synthesized version was the color of caramel.

“Maybe if we put a white label on it,” Jadzia mused. “Or call it ketracel-brown flavor.”

“That’s not funny,” Julian snapped.

Her eyes went wide.

“Come on Julian, it’s a little funny.”

He clenched his jaw and glared.

“Alright. Not in the mood for humor.” She set the vial back on the table with the others. “I’ll start with the metabolic test.”

He silently fumed. He had spent two hours trying to fix the color this morning. There wasn’t anything he could do about it- in this makeshift lab, full of Vorta equipment, standing in the mud of this hot, stinking jungle, on a deserted planet, in a system in the middle of nowhere in the goddamn Gamma Quadrant. No one could have done better than him. He should have felt relieved that he managed to create something that actually worked, but Jadzia’s observation grated the last of his nerves. It still wasn’t good enough. He wasn’t good enough.

***

At midday, the Jem’Hadar gathered for the distribution of white.

“Now, this will look a little different,” Julian explained as Goran’Agar passed out the vials. The Jem’Hadar eyed the brown liquid with suspicion. “But I have created something that will replicate the effects of the enzyme on your systems. It will provide all the nutrients your bodies need to survive, without the addictive effects of the ketracel-white.”

The Jem’Hadar began to insert the vials into their supply tubes. He took in a deep breath. And then-

“This…is not the white,” Arak’Taral growled.

“No, it’s not the same, I’ve removed the neurotransmitters that stimulated the pleasure symptoms in your brains, but you will not experience the withdrawal.”

“I feel nothing!” Meso’Clan said.

The others began to object as well.

“No, no, please calm down-” He held up his hands. “It may not feel the same as the white, but that’s the point. If you would just- wait, it will work.”

Arak’Taral stormed over to the canister where the white was stored and opened it. The changing expression on his face revealed what he had seen.

“It’s gone!”

The others rushed over. Some of the men up-ended the canister to confirm the truly was no more white.

Arak’Taral whipped around and pointed his weapon at Julian.

“You have tricked us!” He exclaimed. “You said you would cure us of our need for the white, but all you have done is weakened us and stolen what remained of our white, and cured us of nothing.”

“No- Goran’Agar- tell them!” Julian started.

“Arak’Taral.” Goran’Agar’s voice was firm. “You will put down your weapon.”

“He has stolen our white!”

“He did not. It was my doing. The white is gone, and they will cure you.”

“You trust these Starfleet? With the lives of your men?”

“I do.”

“You have gone mad!” Arak’Taral roared.

“You wished to be free of the white.”

“If bring free of white means becoming like you, I don’t want to be cured!”

Julian watched in horror as Arak’Taral lifted the table, and spilled the vials of the precious brown- _dammit Jadzia-_ synthesized white and shattered them across the ground. Seventeen hours of work. The chemical extractions. The calculations he had to make manually, since he still never figured out how to work the damn Vorta computer. Every last one of the vials was smashed to bits.

And their only lifeline. Not only the Jem’Hadar. All of them. Without the white, there was no protection for him and Jadzia. Or Goran’Agar.

He stood, his feet frozen in place, as the chaos erupted around him. He felt his body being jerked and his feet dragged beneath him- Goran’Agar had grabbed his arm and forced him behind him- his grip was the only thing keeping him upright as Goran’Agar withdrew back into the jungle in a defensive position. He saw the flash of teal and saw Jadzia at his side, firing alongside Goran’Agar. He noticed her phaser was set to stun, and some part of his brain was touched at her optimism in this moment.

He couldn’t make out what they were saying. It sounded like their voices were coming from underwater.

“Julian. Julian!”

Jadzia shook his shoulder. “We need to run! Follow Goran’Agar!”

Julian’s head swiveled around and he noticed the Jem’Hadar was no longer holding him up. He nearly fell as that realization his own body was supposed to be holding him up.

“Through that path. He says there’s a safe place. I’ll cover.”

Julian hesitated dumbly, but her face lost any patience and shoved him in the correct direction. His feet began to catch up with the rest of him. He remembered he had a phaser and reached for it.

“Don’t worry about that, keep going!”

Jadzia was on his heels as the branches torn at their arms- he was regretting ripping the sleeves off now- as they pushed deeper into the dense brush. Both he and Jadzia ducked down- both were too tall and their heads would be seen over the bushes. They finally reached the cave where Goran’Agar was waiting.

“Were you followed?” he demanded.

“No, I don’t think so. I stunned two; by the time they come to, they won’t notice.”

“Meso’Clan is dead,” Goran’Agar told her.

“Did you get Arak’Taral?”

“No.”

“I don’t understand,” Julian sunk to the ground. “What happened?”

“They didn’t want the white for nutrition,” Jadzia said. “They wanted it for the high. Without that...they don’t care about anything else.”

“Perhaps...perhaps I could remake it. Lower the amount of the addictive drug over time. Like, like the old Earth opioid treatments.”

Jadzia and Goran’Agar shared another look. Goran’Agar stood, and readied his weapon.

“I will return,” He glanced at Jadzia. “You explain to him.”

He transported away.

“Explain what?” Julian asked.

“Julian…” Jadzia sighed. “It’s too late.”

Julian was aghast.

“Of course it’s not too late! Yes, this is a setback, but we still have the supplies, and my notes, and with another day-”

“Julian.” She gripped his arm. “We can’t save them. If we have any chance of surviving this, we need to leave, now.”

“But I can't leave! What kind of doctor gives up on a patient?”

“You can’t treat someone who doesn’t want to be healed.”

“Then I should have forced them!” He exclaimed.

“We’ve done everything we could. There’s nothing more we can do.”

“It wasn’t not good enough! I could have cured them! I could have ended this!”

“Did you want to cure them because it was the right thing to do, or because you’re arrogant enough to believe you could single-handedly defeat the Dominion?” she snapped.

Julian’s answer caught in his throat. He went abruptly silent. It confirmed her words for the both of them.

He buried his face in his hands as the memories of the past five days rushed through his mind. The failures, all of them. The hints at success. The bone marrow. The stupid brown ketracel. The heat of the jungle. The disappointment, then feral rage on the Jem’Hadars’ faces when they didn’t get the euphoria. All his hopes and dreams at curing them and creating an enlightened, freed Jem’Hadar who didn’t serve the Vorta, but were indebted to the Federation because of him. All those possibilities. He turned to a empty page, then lifted his head.

“It would have worked,” He muttered.

Jadzia voice was sympathetic. “It would have, yeah.”

They both flinched at the sound of the transporter before Goran’Agar appeared again.

“Arak’Taral does not understand. He thinks I am weakening the Jem’Hadar.” He handed Jadzia their combadges. “Take your ship and go.”

“Goran'Agar, if you stay here, they'll kill you.” Jadzia told him. “Even if we can't save their lives, there's no need to sacrifice yourself.”

Goran’Agar paused, then turned to face them at attention.

"I am First Goran'Agar, and I am dead. As of this moment, we are all dead. We go into battle to reclaim our lives. This, we do gladly, for we are Jem'Hadar. Remember- victory is life."

"Victory is life," Jadzia repeated. Julian caught the waver in her voice.

Goran’Agar gave them one final nod, before he turned and hurried back into the jungle.

Julian couldn't loosen his jaw to get the words out. A hot fury surged through his bones. He was overwhelmed with the urge to rush into battle beside Goran’Agar, and take out all his anger and frustration on these people who had been his patients only minutes before. Those Jem’Hadar would now die, and take Goran’Agar and his invaluable mutation with them. It was all a waste.

***

Once they were aloft in space, Jadzia began to speak.

“Julian-”

“I don’t want to talk right now,” He said, tensely.

She nodded.

“Alright. I just wanted to say, when we get back to the station, I want you to make the report. I want Benjamin to know…” She paused. “Everything you did. In your words.”

He gave a quick nod in recognition, but couldn't bring himself to look at her.

He rose from his seat and walked back to the replicator.

“Tarkalean tea.”

When he turned to his seat and shifted to get comfortable, he felt something poking him in his pocket. He pulled it out. The vial of Goran’Agar’s bone marrow.

He set it on the console next to his mug and stared. His mind began to click through the possibilities.

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first-ever fanfic *waves* Please let me know if I did anything particularly egregious.
> 
> Thanks to almaasi and Still_Not_King for encouraging me to do this. Love to you both ♥


End file.
